


The Deal

by MsTerror



Series: The Ghost In The Window (Ghostface 'Danny Johnson' x reader [1]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand Jobs, Kinktober 2020, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26965861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsTerror/pseuds/MsTerror
Summary: Day 1: (Handjob)You woke up in the woods, lost and alone. You stumble across a sparking generator. You didn't know what was going on, and why there would something such as a gen out in the middle of the woods.Then you meet Ghostface.___I'm joining kinktober late asf and will have it finished in November but oh well.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/You
Series: The Ghost In The Window (Ghostface 'Danny Johnson' x reader [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999510
Kudos: 80





	The Deal

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at smut. Give me your opinion, what works and what I need to change, if you don't mind. Also, I do not edit my work cause I'm too lazy. Enjoy.

**Handjob / blowjob**  
**Ghostface x reader**

__

The ground was cold and wet. The dew from the grass soaked into her clothing, causing the back of her shirt and shorts to stick uncomfortably to her stiff body. Specks of wet soil smudged against her bare skin, still clingy even after the few short swipes of her hand of the bumpy flesh. Instead, the soil stuck to the sweaty pads of her fingers, gathering in the webbing between. She tried wiping it away on her jean shorts, but she only managed to wipe a few particles off before something loud popped in the distance, and caused her to jump at the blistering sound.

(Y/n) had no clue where she was. One moment she was walking home from the college's library after a long night of studying, next she's laying in the middle of the woods. Did the college even have a forest nearby? She didn't know.

Everytime she tried to recall last night's events, bubbling hot pain would shoot through every nook and cranny within her skull, causing her to almost double over in searing pain. She had stopped trying to remember, the thought of making her obvious head injury worse was something she couldn't deal with at the moment.

So she did the only logical course of action. She followed the source of the explosion.

She came across a generator, barely humming with life. Gears slowly turned, exposed wet wires frizzled and slapped against metal, hot sparks shot up into the air around it. The lamp post above the generator flickered, and it was the only source of light in the pitch darkness of the woods. Why was this here?

The tussle of clothing -- leather against leather -- was the only noise in the forest that seemed to stand out to (Y/n). That one sound over powered the loud thumping of the generator, the breezes that ruffle the fall leaves, and the small pitter patter of rain that hit her shirt. The sound had to be another person.

"Is anyone out there!" She said, her teeth clattering from the cold. "I'm kinda lost."

But her call fell on deaf ears. Perhaps she imagined the sound?

Pin needles pricked at her flesh, a familiar chill fluttering over her flesh and zapped down her spin. She involuntarily froze, breathing halted, nerves raw and bare as her eyes tried to pin point the source of her discomfort. Millions of eyes starred at her through the inky blackness of her surroundings, unbleaking, unmoving. Piercing her with tiny little daggers, burning melting hot wax on every freshly made wound.

She became overly couscous of her movements, her breathing. She could have swore she heard a faint chuckle, more russle of leather, and then silence. She could hear the blood bumping though her veins, traveling up and through her heart, thundering against the walls of the pumping muscle. The organ in her skull fell in sync, thumping against her cranium.

"Some fresh meat, I see." It was a males voice, his voice eaging on playfulness, teasing. The owner of the deep voice stayed hidden amongst the darkness. "A cute one at that."

"Who are you?" she asked. "Show yourself. Now."

The man hummed. "So demanding, fiesty. I think I'm already starting to like you."

"I won't say it again."

"What are you gonna do, firecracker? Drag me out there?"

She stood her ground. "Maybe I will."

The man laughed out loud. "You got guts, sweetheart. I wonder how they'd look, sprawled out on the ground, wrapped around that delicate little neck of yours. You have such a pretty neck. I would hate if something were to happen to it." She grimaced.

"You're a sick bastard."

"Oh, you're breaking my heart over here!" He playfully mocked. "Calling me such a vile name without even knowing me. Considering I'm such a gentleman, I'll introduce myself."

A tall figure walked out of the inky darkness -- a shroud trying to claw at the males figure -- before he stood a dangerous proximity. A ghost mask stared her down, the figure oozed dominance and the promise of brutality.

"The names Ghostface, sweetheart. And I'm your killer for the evening." Amusement bubbled behind the mask, and when he spoke it was both mocking and dripping with sultry. "And I'll be popping the sweet little entity cherry of yours. You don't seem to know what's right in front of you, so I'm guessing this is your first time in this merry playground of cat and mouse."

She took a step back, ready to make a run for it. "You're a killer?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He motioned down to his clothing. "I'm not on my way to a costume party, if that's what you are asking."

She didn't look amused. Instead, she poked the hungry bear. "Did you kidnap me and drag me out here? Are you going to kill me now?"

"No, but yes." He twiddled the knife in his hand now, threatening. "No to your first question. For the your second question... That is definitely a yes. But that, too, is complicated. You see, we killers have to sacrifice survivors -- which so happens to be you in this case -- in order to meet our quota. That way, we're able to slaughter you little piggy's as we please, in due time. Lucky me, I'm able to do exactly that in this trail."

"How is it complicated then?"

"Because like any cat does with the mouse -- they play with their food. The cat tortures the mouse till it's last quivering breath. And you, sweetheart, is the mouse of this game."

She didn't have to think twice before she bolted away from the presumed killer. She dashed between trees, trying her damnest not to trip over something. But she wasn't quick enough.

A hand shoved against the top of her back, causing her to crash forward --

Her face smacked first into a tree. A loud crack blistered in her ears, searing pain coursed through her face suddenly, stemming from her now broken nose. Oily blood poured down her lips -- leaves on the ground tried to stick to the blood.

A boot kicked her in the side and she rolled over on her back. Her blurred vision barely cleared before she saw the white of the mask against the dark of night.

Ghostface tsked. "Gotta up and run, don't you -- right when things were beginning to heat up, too. That's not very nice." He reached down, snaking his hand behind her head and yanked her closer -- a knife pressed against her delicate throat.

"Go fuck yourself," she spat, ignoring the sharpness pricking her flesh.

Ghostface laughed. "Oh, so fiesty!" He brought his masked face closer to hers. "Why don't you help me in the matter?"

Her eyebrows narrowed. "W-what?" she stuttered.

"You help me with that, and I'll let you live."

"Are you really asking me that?!"

"Consider yourself lucky, sweets. I don't make this kinda offer -- exchange." He pressed the blade deeper into her flesh, causing her to flench back. "Consider me enchanted."

"No!" she yelled.

"Alright, have it your way."

He took the knife away from her throat, and she breathed in relief. However, that relieve was short lived.

In one fluid motion, her shirt was lifted, and the knife licked against the tender flesh of her stomach. She hissed in pain, and another slash was created again. And again. She tried fighting back, but he was too strong.

"I'll give you a second chance."

The combination of the broken nose, and the deep slashes on her stomach -- she was in pain. She knew if she didn't agree she would most definitely die.

The woman growled. "Fine."

He hummed, pleased. "Excellent choice."

He pulled her up on her knees. He was quick to get to work with undoing himself.

He undid the belt around his waist, letting it thud against the grass. The leather coat pulled back, revealing a tight bulge hidden underneath his pants.

Her eyes screwed shut instantly and refused to look at him. Ghostface growled, firm fingers curled against her sensitive scalp, and tugged harshly.

His voice was sickly sweet, fake, and obviously meant to jab at her. "Come on, sweetheart. You know the deal. You don't want to die, do you?" But she still didn't comply. The fingers in her hair turned impatient, and the next tug pulled on skin -- her broken nose pulsed painfully, more oily blood dripping down her lips and chin. She finally opened her eyes.

A gloved index finger smoothed over her trembling bottom lip, smearing blood across the corner of her mouth, and her red cheeks.

Ghostface hummed. "Good girl."

His cock was hard as he pulled it from the confines of his leather pants. It bounced as stood erect, the pink swollen tip dripping with precum, a loose drop traveled down the length before being caught by coarse brown hair. He was average size, his girth a bit wider, the angle of the cock just perfect. The sight of it -- the ridge and veins -- made unwelcomed heat pull between her thighs.

She wore a scowl of disgust, a disguise of how she truly felt.

"What are you wait for... lost for words?"

She growled. "Shut up."

She wondered what happened to the knife from before. She suddenly got a spontaneous idea to chop his cock off, but that plan was soon snuffed. The knife was no where to be seen. So was did what had to be done.

Her hands found the base of his cock. The velvet skin was hot to the touch, twitching as she made her way up to his tip. Her thumb rubbed over the slit, smearing more precum over the pink hot head. Her thumb continued to twirl around the tip, coaxing more of the creamy liquid out, milking the natural lubricant. She spat in her loose hand, slowly rubbing up and down the length as her other hand separately played with the tip.

There was a rumble deep down in his chest, and it traveled all the way down to his cock, a slight vibration in her hands.

After a few more deliberate strokes, she released her hold on the tip and softly rubbed his balls in smooth circular motion. A pleased grunt from above told her she was doing alright.

Every little cut and scape on her hand from the fall stung awfully, caused by the fall, spit and precum caking into the wounds.

She tried to forget about her broken nose, about the obvious possibility of death, and especially the hard cock in her hands. Even as her strokes became fast, her fingers twisting along with the firm suction that her hands are trying to replicate -- she couldn't forget. She knew she wouldn't forget about this moment if she lived after all this.

His hips began to rock against her stokes, snapping back and forth.

A firm hand grabbed her jaw tightly, making her look up into the mask of Ghostface. His voice came out almost perfectly even as he spoke. "Come on, use that pretty mouth of yours for me."

Was he fucking serious?

"I'm not going to say it twice."

Her eyes were now trained on the head of the cock, still being thrusted into her hands, the tip curving towards her in needy anticipation. A lump formed in her throat, the pain in her nose pulsed to the rhythm of her heartbeat. The fast movement of the cock halted a little bit, now a slow steady pace. He slowed down for her.

The tip rubbed against her bloody lips before the head slid fully in, the silky length rested against her tongue. The salty taste of precum burned her taste buds. He didn't give her the luxury of waiting before he impatiently thrusted the rest of his length into her mouth. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes before falling. She gagged as the tip jabbed the back of her throat, the stretch of her jaws making her broken nose bleed more. The brown hairs around his cock tickled her nose -- he smelt earthly.

He started to rock his hips back in forth at a brisk pace. He was fucking her face, cock smashing into the back of her throat. His hand held a first full of her hair, keeping her in place as he greedily went after his high.

The rocking motion made the deep slices on her stomach to stretch, and more tears leaked down her face.

He made her look up at him. "Let me see you."

She wasn't bashful, nor was she ashamed. She was furious, hurt, and her pride was already down the drain. Moisture in her panties made fabric stick uncomfortably to skin. Her clit was swollen and sensitive, every shift of her legs making sweet friction. The arousal destracted her from the pain.

It would have been a lie if she said she didn't want his cock in her. She knew she was sick for wanting that, but she couldn't help the needy want to be filled, to have her cunt pounded like her mouth was right now -- rough and animalistic. To have that delicious curve hit that sweet bundle of nerves deep inside her.

Ghostface groaned once more, the snap of his hips becoming uneven. She knew this was coming to an end, and to make it go by quicker, she sucked in her cheeks more. Wet tongue swirled around his hot shaft.

He grunted, slamming into her mouth roughly -- hot sticky liquid traveled down her throat. A few more slow, steady thrust, milking his high. More salty cum gathering against her tongue and sliding down her sore throat.

His softening cock popped from her lips. He didn't fix himself up yet. Instead, fingers smoothed through tangled locks of her hair, gentle. The gesture was too intimate, a soft show of affection that wasn't real, a ploy.

He was the first to speak, like usually. "You make me wanna go a second round, but I have a job to do."

Ghostface stuffed himself back into his pants, fixing his leather coat, redoing the belt around his waist.

(Y/n) was still on the ground on her knees when he took his knife out again. He gave it a long look, mulling over the blood coated tool. His gaze -- at least, she thought he was looking at her -- studied her. The woman closed her eyes, ready for the sharp bite of cold steel.

But it never came. Instead, when she opened her eyes -- no-one was there. Ghostface had kept his end of the deal.

__

Now she was left to her own devices and lost in the woods. She had stumbled across an run down estate of some kind. She was just making her way around a shed when someone grabbed her upper arm.

"Hey, what are you doing out here!" An old man said. "Get down before you get killed."

She attempted to break free from his grasp, but he had already pulled her down behind some crates.

"Hey --" the old man started before she could even get a word in, "you're knew, aren't you? Never seen you around the campfire."

"What?" She was beyond confused. "I'm lost, what's doing on?"

He grumbled, clearly annoyed. Maybe exhausted? He puffed another puff of smoke from his newly let cigarette. "Oh boy... Well, hate to break it to you, kid. But you're not lost. You're stuck. Stuck here like me and the others. I'll explain more of it later to you. Right now we gotta fix gens or we die."

"This... makes no sense." Her mind suddenly went back to recent events.

"Trust me, it ain't that hard to comprehend." He paused. "Well, to me it wasn't. Probably to you it will. I came from a zombie infested dimension after all."

She was lost for words. The taste of Ghostface was still precent on her tongue. Did she make a mistake? Was this real?

He dragged her to a generator like the one before, except this one was almost done, it seemed. The pistons were running smoothly, no sparks flying in the air like the last one.

His voice was no more then a whisper in her ear. "We gotta stay quiet. I guess it's up to me to show you how to fix this thing."

He had told her how to fix it, but by the time he had his hands deep into the guts of the machine she'd already forgotten.

She tried her best, that's all she could say as the gen popped in her face as soon as her hands banged against wires on accident, undoing them.

The old man cursed.

That was the last thing he said before a sharp gasp came from beside her. Her eyes widen at the sight of a knife sticking out of his chest. His body fell limp against the ground with a thud.

"Well, hello sweetheart." Ghostface stood over the old man's body, now peering down at the frightened woman pressed against the sparking gen. "Guess you know the rules of the game -- don't worry, I won't kill you this round."


End file.
